My Lifes' Sonata
by Intoxicated.Panda
Summary: Unhappy with life Ivan Braginski turns to his music. But things change when his music begins to haunt him as Ivan finds himself in a downwards spiral of obsession. pic credit:luigi diamanti


My Life's' Sonata

-Characters don't belong to me, they belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. But this fanfic is mine.

-Ok, I couldn't help but post this one up because it's from Russia point of view

...

Ivan Braginski was sipping his tea, its warmth bringing comfort to his tired body and weary mind. He gently rubbed his temple in methodological circles. Looking down into his black tea, a dejected reflection of a rather large and despondent Russian, stared back at him. A bitter smile was etched on his face, and his eyes impassive. Even from a fair distance, he looked like he had lost weight. With a snort of contempt, he lowered his teacup to rest with a loud 'clink' against the plate. His chicken and mushroom pot pie had only a few bites taken out of it, and the spinach and ricotta gnocchi remained untouched.

Having gained a Bachelor's degree, completing the Medical College Admission Test, enrolling in medical school and passing the USMLE exam – He was a licenced, board certified doctor. Having poured inexhaustibly limited resources into his studies and working part time the whole while, it was only natural that he should be undoubtly proud of himself and overly content with his life.

This was not the case.

These past few years he found an insatiable thirst for something more. Going further back, he argued and berated with himself. Struggling with his thoughts and conflicting emotions – he chose to confront the turmoil and bury himself in denial. He reasoned that he was being selfish and was only exhausted from the work hours he put into supporting fund and participating in charities. Instead, he turned a blind eye towards the situation. He worked harder in retaliation.

He was terrified that everything he had invested into his life and career was for nothing. Refusing to believe, that after all his hard work and dedication towards a life he thought he had wanted, he couldn't feel genuinely satisfied and content with.

Fear that his career wasn't the fulfilling, satisfying profession that he had strived for.

Inside him was a lingering pile of regrets. He felt empty, at a loss and could only despair quietly at home; as he continued to follow the same routines he did every day. With an occasional drink or two to loosen the nerves, he found himself generally a passive man parked in front of his home theatre.

With dedicating his time to his patients, hard effort, and forfeiting his spare time to charities, he thought he had achieved everything. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed helping his patients, diagnosing their problems, and watching them get better. However, he couldn't deny the other negative and somewhat depressing points of his career. He was now terried at the very thought that the gratification of helping others were now being outweighed by the negative impacts of his profession. The long hours, the demands, insane workloads, and complaining patients…

His job was stressful.

He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. Looking down at his side laid his violin case; he felt somewhat happier, the weight on his heart lessening. He loved his violin. It had been imported from Italy, and had been by his side for many years. His mother, who had always loved music and respected the arts, sent him when he was very young, to a private school for violin lessons. A few years later, his teacher proudly told his nervous mother that he was a brilliant and accomplished violinist. Ecstatic that he took to the violin so easily she used up what money she had saved for what she thought would've been best for him, his lessons. However his father thought otherwise, demanding that he turn his attention to his studies. In the end, after finishing his studies of music, and achieving his potential at the stringed instrument, he shifted his objective to pleasing his father.

But music had left its mark on him. He never abandoned his 'wooden companion'. He played it constantly, going through hard and difficult times, playing new pieces that he took a liking to. His mother was pleased when he told her that he would never give up playing.

Music was his comfort, and the violin his companion. He smiled looking up, scanning the cafe of its busy servers and bustling customers.

Laughing men, and gossiping women.

_How boring._

Looking out to the road there were park benches and tables.

Watching the people walk their dogs and jogging was boring.

He raised his teacup to continue drinking.

_Maybe I should visit the bar today_

Someone is sitting at the bench.

Ivan nearly dropped his cup. This person immediately caught his attention.

He was startled at what was sitting in front of him across the street. This person looked so strange. Not in an unpleasant way, far from it. He couldn't help but stare with astonished expression at what he believed was a very young man. It took him awhile to realize that he was holding his breath, and it was only by the burning sensation in his chest, did that remind him to release it. Taking a deep breath, he continued to gaze at him.

He was so handsome that he was beautiful, almost feminine. His long dark ebony hair fell past his shoulders. It looked so soft that Ivan wouldn't think twice about touching it. His pearly white skin contrasted beautifully with his amber eyes that seemed to twinkle on its own, staring off into its own world. The corners of his pale shiny pink lips Ivan thought with a blush were turned upwards. He was smiling at no one particular. Ivan saw with surprise, that his sleeves were too long, curiously, they swallowed his hands. Ivan watched as suddenly the man looked to his side as if expecting something. Shifting his gaze, he saw that beside him was something like a box wrapped in cloth with a little bow at the top. Grabbing the box tied up in red cloth beside him, Ivan watched as nimble fingers shyly appear from the depths of his sleeves to tease the bow loose.

His smile grew as he smoothed out the corners of the cloth, acting as a small mat for what appeared to be a decorated box. Ivan watched as he set what he was sure were white napkins to his side. He then pulled out a bottle which Ivan recognized as hand sanitizer and began to rub his hands with the clear liquid. Then gently picking up chopsticks and removing the lid of his box, he began to eat earnestly.

Ivan didn't know how long he was staring at the asian man. All he knew was that he ordered a latte, and biscotti, so he could stay even longer at the cafe. He couldn't help noting that this person was honestly enjoying whatever he was eating. He looked so happy just eating there on the bench, that Ivan felt a twinge of jealousy. The bottom of his stomach burned dismally. Here he was drinking tea as if there was nothing in life to live for and the other was enjoying his _packed lunch_, he thought scathingly, as if it were food from Michelin star restaurants. Ivan watched as the young man wiped his mouth, threw out his garbage, and collected his items. As the man left, something shifted inside of him. His chest felt strangely...hollow.

* * *

-Ok ,I'll end it here. I was kind of poking through the character.

(Edited on Sept 1, 2013: Why? Because it's been years...)


End file.
